Spectrum
by Isolith
Summary: The spectrum of their existence has always been more colorful when their lives collide; volatile, vivid, soft and continuous. Lost love in between. - A look into the beginning of a decade old feud, of an undercover mission gone horrible wrong and the aftermath, of trying to mend what's broken.
1. Prologue

**Title: Spectrum**

**Summary:**

The spectrum of their existence has always been more colorful when their lives collide; volatile, vivid, soft and continuous. Lost love in between.

A look into the beginning of a decade old feud, of an undercover mission gone horrible wrong and the aftermath, of trying to mend what's broken.

Flynn/Raydor

**A/N:** AU (most probably, yeah)

**-o-**

**Prologue**

**-o-**

Blissfully, Andy Flynn was afloat – drowning in her green eyes and her vinous warmth, poisoning himself with obsession, compulsion and infatuation. Drunk with excess; intoxicated by her and by clear alcohol. He was drinking his newest addiction willingly, forcefully and unconsciously.

They had been undercover for nearly five months now – five months of sneaking around dark, crooked alleyways and smoke-covered bars wearing wires and pretending to live the lives of embezzling thugs going for the big dime. Five months of slowly getting acquainted with the seedy underbelly of the city. Five months of living in shabby motel rooms and having no real contact with the outside world. Five months of roaming around at night and sleeping the day away.

Five months of booze, deception and furtive glances – and everything was a blaze of lust and chaos.

Andy had never been happier.

**-o-**

**A/N: **Do not fret, next part is waay longer =)


	2. Part 1 Dark

**-o-**

**Part I; Dark**

The dark mysterious color was all consuming and inviting, the intricate color of a crepuscular evening enclosing him, intriguing him as he found his eyes fixed on the deep red shade. It drew his stare and it ignited pulsating emotions and sparked fanciful imagery to pop into his mind. It covered his skin in a layer of tingling lust that spread inwards and within him – rumbling like the ground in the aftermath of a heaving earthquake. Andy Flynn could feel it roaring and twisting in him, eager and elated, excited and mesmerized. _  
_

The layer of lipstick seemed to have melted onto her lips, molded with her skin and existing as a part of her – glistening with the dark red shine of something untoward. Fascinated he raked his line of sight from her face to her bosom in a slow purposeful motion, lingering on every small nuance and curve, delighted by the small detail to the thin flimsy dress and becoming further aroused the more he stared. But his eyes fastened on her lips again once his inspection was over, the color too tantalizing to ignore for long. The exact specific shade, the very one he always succumbed to. _Midnight red_.

Andy lifted his stare a bit and found her expression engaging and playful – dark seductive lashes highlighted and her green eyes adorned with specs of vivid viridian. Her mouth curved upwards and her stare turned warmer, inviting him in – tendrils of dark allure radiating from the swirling depths, captivating and dangerous. He could feel it being absorbed through his skin, slipping under and invading his senses.

"_Bottoms up_" she inclined her head and drowned the half-filled tumbler in her hand and he followed suit along with the rest of the group. The alcoholic beverage burned its way down his throat, vigorous but sour and bitter in its aftermath. He barely registered it though, his eyes and mind concentrated solely on her. Her pale neck exposed as she drew her head back and swallowed. The lipstick stayed on, perfect and unstained, and it filled him with more warmth, desire burning throughout his whole body, tantalizing and blazing. A small drop of the alcohol lingered in the corner of her mouth and slowly made its way down the side of her jaw in a transparent passage.

Andy was burning up, restraint an almost foreign concept. Nonetheless he gripped the wooden armrests of his chair till his fingers became a pale white, bit down on his lower lip in order to remain in his place. The dark wooden cylindrical table between them, the squad of gruff-looking criminals next to them, tumblers likewise filled with intoxicating liquid. He itched and tingled with the desire to touch her, to tangle his hands in her hair and run fingers across and down her body – rip apart her dress to reveal even more bare pale skin. But he held himself back, enjoyed the taste of acid alcohol instead and imagined catching the trail of liquid on her skin with the tip of his tongue and retracing its trail all the way to the corner of her lips.

A large pile of money lay in the middle of the table. And yet, it merely was a friendly – if possible in the crooked underworld of criminals – little game of cards.

Andy Flynn watched Sharon Raydor as she leaned back in her seat, the swell of her bosom visible in the dark light of a single chandelier hanging from the ceiling – her red-painted lips adorned with a flirtatious smile, a thumb on the empty tumbler, her index finger running along the brink of the glass in a caress. She gazed right at him; a look of challenge in her green abyss.

He fixed the group with a smile of triumph as he looked at his cards, made a show of slowly and deliberately leaning back in his chair as he drew out a small pouch from his pockets, spilling the contents out on the table.

"_I'm in_" he challenged the group, focusing his eyes solely on Sharon as he laid a stack of money on the table, feeling his mouth curl upwards in barely contained delight.

Sharon barely blinked but he saw underneath her mask, how her green eyes seemed to turn an even darker color of secretive desire. He found it almost unbearable not to ravish her mouth then. But he restrained himself, ordered himself to think of their mission – to think about their work. There would be no deviating – maybe a slight little detour – but the course was set. Fraternizing on the job while undercover, it was beyond unintelligent and stupid; but oh how he yearned to kiss her, to devour her.

"_Tsk, tsk_" Sharon purred, leaning in over the table and exposing even more cleavage. He watched as every eye in the room riveted to her chest as well and he felt his stomach twist itself into knots in protest. But he kept quiet – no need to blow their cover over petty possessiveness. At least not until they had all the information they needed and he could arrest the two bastards responsible for five robberies and as many accounts of manslaughter.

Sharon smiled as she threw a stack of money onto the table as well, her laughter melodious as she leaned back again and watched the group of eyes following her, her cards haphazardly following the fanning motion of her hand. It gave her the appearance of recklessness and inebriation; a suitable costume for the occasion, Andy thought. She had a talent for lulling her prey into a false sense of success before she struck.

One of the men smiled invitingly at her, and drew out a rather large stack of non-sequential 100 dollar bills, his grey eyes almost a dark greenish-brown and his voice deep and playful as well: "_Well, well – bottoms up, again – Miss Weathers_"

Sharon –_ Nicola Weathers, small time embezzler who ran cons against insurance companies _– returned the coy smile, and Andy felt himself grow even more and more tightly wound with the dark ebony feeling of ownership, watching as they drowned their new-filled tumblers. He could feel a small snarl work its way up his throat but he contained it, coughed instead and earned himself an amused look from her and the crooked thugs.

Sharon reached across the table and patted his cheek with a laugh; he felt his face blush as the group of criminals laughed with her, their amusement heightened by alcohol.

"_A frog in your throat, hon?_" she spoke, her voice amused to the group but to his ears he heard their little secret word. Why they had agreed on frog was beyond him. He could feel his cheek tingling from her touch and he bit down even harder on his bottom lip. She grinned but he watched as she drew her right index finger across her lower lip and her next words made the whole group of men howl with laughter; "_Or did the whiskey sting?_"

He coughed again, this time very much deliberately and looked her in the eye as he spoke; "_Definitely a frog_" extra attention to the last word. Everything was set, ready to roll.

The group laughed again, and Andy fixed Sharon with an insolent grin and an arched eyebrow. This was even more fun than he had expected.

"_Next you'll be turning green_" Sharon laughed with a mock-sigh, a finger gliding across the expanse of the surface of the table as she leaned back in her seat, amusement swirling in the depths of her eyes. "_and saying quack_"

The group of thugs laughed again; a young man holding unto his abdomen and gripping the edge of the table. This lot was too easy to amuse, Andy thought, trying to stop himself from laughing as well – too easy to trick.

Andy looked at Sharon, a warm smile on his lips and she winked at him. He swallowed, and tried to arrange his thoughts into neat piles – and stay clear of thoughts concerning Sharon, the table and explicit scenarios. They moved on with the game, tumblers being filled with colorful liquid by a circling waitress.

The gruff to his right leaned across the table, depositing a handful of cash on the table, his teeth glistening in a crooked smile as he regarded his competition, his large grey eyebrows seeming to overshadow his small dark eyes and the gleeful look; "_I see you, and raise_" he grunted, gulping down the brown alcohol in his tumbler.

The young man next to Sharon huffed and drew more money from under the table, smiling in Sharon's direction as he put the cash on the table, his eyes focused on her. Sharon soaked it up, and winked back at the young fellow.

"_Cheers_" she inclined her head again at the group, her eyes lingering on Andy as she put her lips on the rim of her glass and drank the amber poison within. Eyes that were becoming more and more dangerous to his well-being and strength, eyes that seemed to swirl with promising delights – dark eyes that drew him in and spoke of scandalous undertakings that were bound to occur. He shuddered – and wondered rather impatiently if this con would ever come to a stop. The group of criminals still seemed somewhat coherent and for the plan to work they needed to be much more inebriated – drunken people had an obscure inability to not boast about this and that, often revealing whatever discriminating deed they had had accomplished.

"_Cheers_" he answered her, sharing a secretive look; he felt almost giddy with anticipation.

-o-

Andy's mind was in a titillating explosion of sensory inputs, igniting touches stampeding through his nervous system and attacking his brain.

His body was responding to the huge amount of alcohol he had consumed but more importantly his mind was drunk on Sharon and the feelings coursing through body and mind alike in the afterwake of her touch. Igniting his skin on fire and running upwards through arms and legs, centering in his groin and curling upwards in his abdomen. Exploding in his mind in an eruption of pleasure. Rushing through and wreaking havoc on his senses, his emotions tied to the feel of flesh and skin, to the feeling of embracing infinity in a kiss.

He was flush against the cold floor, Sharon pressing herself into him, her mouth hot and impatient on his. The shabby motel room encircling them and trapping them in a niche of secretive, hidden passion – away from the mob of criminals whose echoes ran down the corridors separated from their little hideout, still playing their poker game of who's got more money – and far away from their wires and undercover liaison listening.

But everything else was quickly forgotten, slipping from his consciousness as he was enveloped further and further into the feel of Sharon's weight on top of him, of the sensual feel of her lips against his, her warm slender fingers slipping underneath clothes and stroking bare flesh. His mind spun and he felt fuzzy, the only point of focus being her; touching her, plundering her soft warm lips and tangling his fingers into her unruly hair.

He was too drunk – despite promising himself he would be mostly sober. He was off his rocker – and he didn't care. Not one bit. He bit down on her lower lip, drawing out her moan as he pressed her tighter against him. She tasted like dry vermouth, overwhelming and acrid and for a brief moment he wondered what the bloody hell she had been drinking. A small but detectable tang of something else tingled his lips, a flavor in betwixt sour and something else. Somehow the bitter taste only made him more aroused, surprising his expectations of something sweet – it was like venom in her kiss.

His fingers slipped up her thigh, under her dress, travelling up as she haphazardly started unbuttoning his shirt. He caressed her inner thigh, drawing circles on her warm skin and eliciting shivers and gasps. His other hand cupped her breast through the thin material of her dress while he drew the length of it over her hips, trust his hips upwards, wanting to melt into her.

She pushed him down hard, her hand on his shoulder as the other unbuckled his pants and slipped underneath.

He gasped and sighed with pleasure, the tingling of her touch bursting to flames in his mind.

Everything blurred around him and he still spun but her green eyes remained clear, framed by a halo of untamed red hair. He drew her back to his lips again and caressed her mouth, the surprise of cold air hitting his naked butt only lingering in the back of his mind. He was more concerned with his hands on her thighs, on trusting upwards and burying himself in her. The feel of unbearable sensation running through his body like electricity, coiling and twisting within him, climbing to higher levels of pleasure, mounting to something indescribable – it roared within him waiting for release.

He could feel the skin of her bared thighs slick and hot against him as she embraced him fully, the soft tingling strands of hair tickling as she leaned forward and captured his mouth. He breathed in the scent of her likewise drunken arousal, drank the moans and small sounds in the back of her throat as he slid in and out of her.

And suddenly it all erupted and he felt his mind exploding, pain and pleasure in a mix of unstable elements and he could hear the echo of someone screaming. His breath was ragged and his head spun even worse than before, his thoughts all jumbled up.

Sharon collapsed onto his chest and Andy could feel the vibrations of her perturbed breath though his ribcage. He covered her with his arm, bringing her head to rest in the nook of his shoulder, his legs tangled around hers.

He had a fleeting thought about a poker-game and something about exit strategy, a little worry about the cold floor and his arms cramping up at the dead weight of Sharon lying on it but they were very brief thoughts. He was too comfortable to move, too drowsy to contemplate anything but the nice body lying on his skin and the spinning feeling of being in orbit around a planet in his head.

He quickly fell asleep as well.

Blissfully unaware.

**-o-**

Mm, reviews are love =)


	3. Part 2 Black

**Part II; ****Black**

Black – the color the spitting image of betrayal, treachery and the inevitable death everyone was bound to encounter along the path. The dark inviting color of downfall and decay, of something left to fend for itself and slowly sinking into the deep dark mud of darkness and despair. The color of his downfall, of the abyss he was sinking into – unwillingly. Yet he embraced it, smeared it into his skin and felt it curl up in his soul. She sank and he sank with her. Down and down – deeper into the wrecked abandon of their souls.

"_Sharon,_" he commanded, feeling dread wound itself tightly in his throat, constricting, "_Put the knife down_"

She glared at him, her eyes dark and angry, her mouth a firm small line and her fingers trembling on the handle of the small-bladed knife. He could almost feel the heat of fear radiating from her, enveloping her as she still pointed the sharp end of the blade at the surrounding force of two men with glistening guns. He watched her eyes flickering in a line from him to the still outlines of guns pointing at them, her eyes narrowing and her chest heaving with restrain. But her arms were still, unwavering in their position. He could almost taste the fear in the air, feel it shimmering within him and beyond him – dense and heavy; like mold in the air.

They had been taken by surprise – cover blown.

"_Sharon,_" his voice came out as a mix of warning and plead, his hands shaking and his mind in uproar as he cautiously watched the barrel of two guns pointed back at Sharon and himself. Andy wondered if they would shoot to kill or to maim, whether he should be horrified or nauseous.

"_Ray_" his voice came out estranged and alien, worry and fear in it – the endearment leaving his lips without thought but he saw it register as she slowly let her arm fall to her side. He breathed a sigh of relief – at the very least she seemed to obey, once in a while. Maybe they wouldn't die in a hail of bullets, maybe they wouldn't die upon the dirty ground of the motel room, half-clothed and hungover.

Andy gave Sharon a small reassuring smile half afraid she would suddenly take arms again, fearing she would be covered in a storm of gunfire. Sometimes he worried about her and how she managed to stay safe – she was too fragile even if her exterior was steel. Bullets cut through skin, through muscles and blood vessels with too much ease. Sometimes he walked around in a nightmarish dream only seeing her dead body – wrecked and maimed by bullets, slaughtered to almost unrecognizable pieces. Or garroted by harsh knives, her skin wrecked into a grizzly painting of blood – dark, twisted nightmares that would have him soaked through with sweat and afraid to fall back to sleep again.

Sharon gave him a tight smile, and Andy could see fear and anger surging within her, seething in the depths of her eyes, battling and raging. He felt it mirrored in his own mind, body aflame with adrenaline and an underlying panic that grew steadily. This was a nightmare – come alive to haunt him.

They were still being held at gunpoint by the two gruff-looking men but he knew Sharon would attack first if he let her but one small knife and a pair of fists was nothing against bullets. Better to come quietly – and hope backup was on its way. He silently begged and hung unto hope (He was almost positively sure he had forgotten to turn the wire in his tie off when he had slung it across the room; their liaison would send help, surely).

"_This is insane,_" she hissed at him, her smile dark and revengeful, almost mocking him. Alcohol never did them any favors; only made them cruel and dark. He tried to ignore her but he couldn't help but cringe at her tone. This mess might be his fault but she had still participated – she was likewise to blame. Andy threw an angry frown back at her as they both raised their arms in surrender, glaring at each other as the rogue men closed in on them.

"_I'm sorry – but do you really wanna go up against their guns?_" he whispered forcefully to her as the armed men came up to them and roughly bent their hands behind their backs. Her smile turned wistful then and before Andy could reassure her or himself, the handle of a gun hit him squarely in his face and then everything was covered in darkness.

His last thought was one of horror; that feeling of surging panic just before you hit the ground in a dream. Only, he didn't wake to find himself in the comfort of his bed. He woke to a nightmare; his own personal hell.

**-o-**

Terror slid through your mind in a shroud of darkness, covered in a pool of black liquid, reminiscent of midnight blood – stagnant and poignant. It slipped through cracks in your armor, through clenched teeth, in your nostrils and ears; slithered till it reached your throat and thickened until you had trouble breathing. It invaded you, settled into your being with no regard for anything else but the need to revoke your darkest, deepest fears.

Sharon was screaming. _Howling_. Her voice was distant, far away from him. He felt they were on different planes of existence even though she was physically in the same room.

Andy shook on the cold floor, fury and nausea surging through his body as he tried to stand up. But the pain behind his eyes and the feeling of jagged throbs shooting through his ribs with every movement stopped him. Tight, taut pain. He screamed back, launched a tirade of rage, venom in the words he threw at the grey dirt walls. The room was small, dark and rank, the smell of rust heavy and humid.

Her voice broke in-between half-sobs and frail words of nonsense, screams of anger followed by her whimpers.

Then he heard nothing – silence heavy and ominous.

He could hear movement, the rustle of clothes moving. Opening his eyes hurt but he glimpsed the outline of two middle-aged gruff men, regulars from their poker games, standing like the outlines of dark, shadowy trees in the distance. Andy heard her voice whimper but it became muffled, the two trees coming to stand before him, towering and their expressions hidden in the darkness of the room.

"_Your partner's quite the screamer, isn't she_" the dark-haired man greeted him with a laugh – Nikolaj something – Andy had never learned the man's last name. The poker game had never gone beyond aliases and nicknames. The dark-haired man loomed in his appearance as he looked down at Andy, frightening in his demeanor and violence in the depths of his eyes. Andy tried to heave himself up but the force of a boot-covered foot in his stomach had him doubling over again, heaving for air between flares of pain.

"_Now son – let's have a little chat, eh… _" another smile with glistening yellowed teeth and Andy had a hard time keeping his eyes open and focused. The man continued, his voice calm and almost friendly, "_You tell me what I want to hear and I'll spare that little woman of yours, hmm?_"

"_Fuck you_," Andy managed to spit at the two bastards. He didn't have the time though to brace himself for the sudden kick being directed at his head. The world swam in nauseating colors and for a blissful second he thought for sure he was going to pass out. But everything came back into focus, his head heavy and jarring every time he breathed, his own vomit trailing down his chin, a pool on the floor – grainy and a sickly odor hanging around him.

"_Slice her up a bit, will ya_," the older guy told his younger partner who was shrouded in shadows. But Andy heard him laugh in the dark as he went in the direction of where Andy assumed Sharon lay.

"_No, no – please_" Andy choked but it was too late. He heard Sharon mumble something, heard as she tried to crawl away, and then… she cried. He felt sick to his stomach, gagging but nothing came up this time – dry heaves that left him feeling empty and hollow.

The man laughed – "_You're a cheeky one, eh_" His partner, in the shadows, laughed as well.

'_Please – just… just let her be – I'll tell you anything_'

'_Anything – really?_'

"_Yes_"

Nikolai looked at him, a grim grin on his face: "_Ol' Billy sent you, didn't he?_"

The question surprised him; '_What – … No – we're undercover – ' _ and a boot connected with his shoulder, bouncing against his ribs and hips. Andy collapsed on the floor again, curling together and holding his breath as pain erupted across his body. Hands held his head still while he struggled and suddenly he felt the wet feel of liquid on his face, the sting of alcohol as it ran into his mouth, down his neck. He nearly choked on it, trying to wrestle free. But the hands held his head steady and continued to pour the liquid down; he swallowed unwillingly and felt he was drowning in bitterness. The taste left him feeling tainted and vile; swept his mind into a swirl of dark streaks of colors.

"_Wrong answer,_" the old bastard said, threw the bottle away. Andy heard the splintering of glass – the sound almost too vivid in his mind.

He laid in his own pool of vomit, drenched in alcohol and his own sweat and fear – shivering and begging for blackout as one boot connected with his body again. But nothing happened. He waited a moment – but he was still conscious.

Then somewhere in the distance he heard a door open and close, footsteps echoing and disappearing – the old guy disappeared leaving only the young criminal. He could hear Sharon whimpering, loud in his mind as fists and boots kept coming hard at him – the blond gruff leaving his body on fire. Then nothing. The blonde left him alone, a hurtling ball of pain on the floor. But there was nothing good about that; he'd moved on to Sharon.

Andy choked on the air, felt his throat constrict as images sprung forth from his imagination, her pain fueling it. He could feel darkness simmering and flaring up, deep in the abyss of his soul, something alien and wicked rearing its head as she howled. He could taste it in the back of his throat, bitter and foreign – something gelatinous and dark, wiggling its way out of its cage, grasping his ribs for support in a tear of flesh. She screamed, and he fell deeper and deeper down in the dark, felt the suddenly warm untamed essence of his rage, felt as he was taken over, as he changed. And he plunged into the darkness, willingly and faithfully, embracing the all-consuming rage. It filled him to the brim, his vision blurring and his blood filled with a searing white substance. The rushing of blood loud in his ears; foreign yet familiar.

He roared.

And blood splayed unto his face as his fingers dug deeper into the throat of the blonde man. Overpowering the bastard Andy pummeled his fists into the face of his attacker, pain barely registering, only the sound of bones creaking and breaking. He found a gun in the guy's pocket.

He pulled the trigger, the impact of the bullet forcing the body of the blonde guy to twitch. Andy felt numb, the gun familiar yet alien in his hands. He sagged, feeling energy leave his body fast, his eyes heavy and limbs like gelatin.

_Sharon whimpered_ again and he was on his feet, cold fire once again flaring up in his blood, barely registering the unmoving body of the man on the floor as he passed it. It was inconsequential – Sharon was all that mattered.

He found her slumped form, tied to the hard compact stonewall and her face consorted in pain.

He softly traced her cheeks with his thumbs, his fingers behind her ears, soothing her small sounds of pain. Her eyes were empty – a vast sea of uncompromising green.

_She whimpered _when he freed her from the rope around her wrists, the cords leaving her wrists bruised, the skin cracking and a slow trickle of blood painting her arms a ghastly color. He caught her as she collapsed, holding her close to his chest afraid she would disappear.

He mumbled words of nonsense to her in comfort as they crumbled together in a corner of the room, the cold weapon tightly-gripped in one hand, his eyes watching for movement.

She had gone silent, huddling against his chest as she drew him closer and closer, her hands gripping him in an iron hold. He drew circles on her back, whispered '_you're safe_' in her hair.

She sniffled but otherwise she kept silent. He continued to murmur, his quiet voice loud in the dark room, the intensity seeming to amplify in the silence.

His mind had finally stopped spinning and he slowly started to feel control and awareness come alive again in him – his surroundings stopped flickering and he could look from one end of the room to the other without feeling he was going to throw up. His blood was no longer rushing through his veins and arteries as if it ran for its life but seemed to have slowed down to a pace more suited to him, no longer loud in his ears. His rage had transformed from molten liquid to a cold solid thing but nevertheless it was still present. He wasn't sure but he thought maybe he preferred the flaring and blazing rage compared to this feeling of something heavy and compact lingering everywhere in his body – like an entity separate from himself but the tendrils of those cold, vengeful arms had deposited strings unto his heart, drawing his soul into a raging winter.

The universe was cruel, he thought. Existence was mere happenstance and everyone was out to make it unbearable for you.

He grinded his teeth and his muscles tensed. In the far distance sirens ricocheted, weak and shrill but growing stronger with every breath he took. He tightened his grip on Sharon and begged he wouldn't pass out before her.

**-o-**


	4. Part 3 Green

**Part III; Green**

**-o-**

The color was raw and dangerous. A painstakingly dark green wrought with the tale of morbid, gruesome happenings. Virescent, a deep green etched into the trappings of his mind, nauseating and sickly. He could feel his mind churning. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing it's only a matter of time before you fall; not a matter of if. There were no hands to steady him, no one to pull him back – he would fall and crash, surely. Into a dark unfathomable green sea, claiming him into its depths with an intensity that would overwhelm him, reel him into the center of its mass and envelop him into arms that would cling to him, unyielding. It did not comfort him; no, the almost tender tendrils ensnared and engraved into his body, his mind, was the slow but painful road to dark misery.

Sharon's hair fell in red tresses, her eyes red from crying and the gashes were still angry and fresh – bruises dark and still red. The aura of her encompassed him, enveloped him in an embrace far from comforting, tying strings around his throat and squeezing the life slowly from him. Never had guilt taken such a stronghold on him, never had he felt so lost. Lost in the feeling, lost in an angry haze of confusion and the feeling of spinning out of control; the blur of absinthe-colored horror in his soul.

Andy had a hard time keeping his gaze on anything but her. The fragile form, the bruised and bloodied woman drew him in, confined his sight and took his breath from his lungs. Nausea seemed ever constant – a dark and rancid force twisting its way inside him, curling and trembling as a foreign creature lodge inside his heart, sickly green in its center.

The hospital was quiet – still as if waiting for the people to take breaths. Their room albeit small felt light however – he wondered why. Trembling and in pain, his whole body aching, Andy tried to make sense of everything – every breath drew out an excruciating pain in his sides – two broken ribs and a few bruised. His head pounded and throbbed and no matter how much he tried to, he couldn't sleep. The hospital bed he was confined to was doing nothing to soothe his pain. All he could do, all he wanted to, was watch over her.

His existence seemed to revolve around her lithe form lying motionless opposite him in another hospital bed – eyes vacant and staring into a space beyond him. It pained him – how she pulled into herself and closed off. Pain that only intensified when the door into their room opened silently and Sharon's husband came into view. Andy gave a brief polite nod to the well-dressed man, trying to contain his agony over seeing him. But watching Sharon's eyes fasten on her husband, present and not empty, Andy had a hard time reconciling.

She still seemed lost to him – her silence since being brought to safety louder than any words she could have spoken. She had hung onto his hand all the way in the ambulance – quiet and eyes distant but her grip desperate and very much present. The other arm had been lying limply by her side, odd angles and bruised. Hair covered in sweat and grime hung loosely, in knots, covering a split brow, blood sticking to a couple of tresses. He had kissed her hair nonetheless – spoken soft words of comfort – her warmth and nearness had comforted him. His own cracked lip kept opening, fresh blood prickling his skin, his voice reverberating with the flavor of metal. A heavy bruise under her right eye seemed to change in front of him, changing color and form.

He had swathed her in his shirt back at the crime scene when the had ambulance arrived, first then comprehending the blood and why she tensed every time she moved – long, angry gashes down along her spine, along the sides of her abdomen – the bastard had sliced her.

Andy watched as her husband rushed inside and reached out to draw Sharon into his arms. He watched, his mind reeling and nauseous as her husband drew circles of comfort down the sides of her uninjured arm, and he trembled when he saw her cling to the well-dressed man.

Sharon eyes caught his over the shoulders of her husband – an empty gaze devoid of the familiar warmth he had grown accustomed to. He grimaced but continued to watch her.

Andy needed a drink – needed to pass out and never feel again. He needed to disappear, to empty himself of emotional turmoil. He desperately needed to drown – lock himself up in darkness.

They both stayed the night for observation – him to make sure his bruised and broken ribs wouldn't compromise his breathing, her to make sure a concussion wasn't intracranial bleeding. Light from a small lamp illuminated the room in a comforting glow, shadows cast into corners. Noises came from outside their closed door but their room had a silent calm to it. Her eyes were open – staring straight at him, dark green in their depths. He stared back – took comfort from being close to her. He felt the air move when she breathed in – when she exhaled he took comfort in this too.

"_Sharon,_" he whispered, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, loud in the still room.

She blinked.

"_Yes_" the word feather light and almost too low to hear.

"_I'm sorry_" he apologized, fearing she did not know how sorry he truly was.

"_I know_" she whispered.

He fell asleep to the sound of her breathing.

**-o-**

"_You asshole! You ruined it!" _Sharon accused him in a low growl, her lips quivering, standing just inside his main doorway, the first words leaving her mouth since he found her banging her fist on his front door.

"_Ruined what?_" he asked coldly, brutally and not willing to let his guard down. Andy hadn't seen her since the hospital – the bruise under her eye now dark and faded instead of red and angry. She had never answered the phone when he'd called.

"_Why?"_ she shouted at him, "_do you insist on ruining my life_?"

"_Your life! What about mine – you destroy that just as easily,_" he yelled back at her, watched almost mesmerized as she flinched at the words, taking a step back.

"_I hate you,_" she cried, the words ripped from her throat in a half-strangled curse, her eyes sad and teary. She spun on her heels and exited his apartment, her accusing voice pinning him to the spot and so he stood, unmoving, and watched her depart, _hate you, hate you_ ringing in his ears. Stand in line, he thought darkly still staring at the closed door, the silence in the room unnerving and despondent.

"_I hate you too,_" he whispered in the empty hallway, feeling hollow and empty – but not for long. Anger suddenly flared in him, reared its ugly head, and he followed her outside, his steps hurried and furious.

"_I hate you too_," he yelled at her back as he caught up with her.

"_Bastard,_" she cursed at him still marching away in forceful, angry strides, her trench coat billowing behind her. He caught the edge of her sleeves and spun her around.

Fury shone around her in a shimmer; her eyes dark and sizzling and her breath uneven – and he knew she was losing control, fast. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to care.

A lone tear travelled down her cheek, shining transparently in the silvery light from the half orb moon, almost nonexistent in its transparency. He felt almost gleeful at its existence even though on some level he felt like crying too.

"_You've destroyed everything,_" she breathed and he felt needle-sharp pain accompany the words as she projected her anger onto him – he welcomed it, soaked in the blazing, poundings emotions as they swam through him. Warm, intense green fury.

"_Ah, but I am not the one who's married!_" he hurt her back, his hands clenched on her arms, the skin pale white under his hold.

"_You stupid fuck_" she cried and tried to wriggle out of his grip, "_Why would you tell him! You were drunk – I was drunk. It was a mistake, okay!_"

Something cracked in him – he could feel it slip away into the dark and leaving him an empty shell, malicious and full of a deep desire to hurt her, to inflict some kind of pain onto her.

"_Mistake! Hah" _he spit.

"_Ye-es,_" she breathed, her eyes cold and unforgiving; a dark deep forest green.

The word slapped him hard and he had trouble forming an angry retort. In the sudden silence he looked at her eyes, opaque and obscure in their virid color, and he wondered for a split moment why she couldn't see him, see every thought and feeling he had concerning her.

He sighed, saw her eyes widening.

"_You're jealous!_" she sounded suddenly surprised at the words, her eyes alert with the revelation.

"_So what if I am – I have every right to be. You're my fucking-_" he stopped anything more from leaving his lips.

"_Your what, exactly?_" she hissed, angry again.

"_Partner,_" he told her automatically, the words sounding stale and hurtful. She wrinkled her nose and her eyebrows knitted together in further vehemence.

Somehow though words rushed out of him – he wanted her to know, needed her to know. Needed to expel the words before thye strangled him from the inside out.

"_I can hear your screams still – hear as that fucking guy tortures you. And it kills me, okay. I am a goddamn drunk and the reason the whole mess blew up in our faces, okay! I'm in fucking love with a married woman, and I want to go drown myself in booze till I don't feel a fucking thing - How's that for ruining my life!" _he roared into her face, his voice loud in the silent street.

He watched in horror as she understood; her eyes wide and scared and he was reminded of her as a rookie, out on their first stint, guns held in shaking hands. She had the same look upon her face now. This was not meant to happen, he knew that. She didn't know, she couldn't know – and yet he had just told her, his anger quickly fading and leaving him cold, a sinking feeling of despair in his mind.

"_No, no - no_" she whispered, her voice desperate and begging. He couldn't form words, he tried but he was petrified.

No, no, no – this was not meant to happen.

"_Sharon_," he spoke hesitantly but she closed her eyes and turned her face away from his, tears streaming down her cheeks now.

And that was when he did another unforgivable thing, the second one in a short time, leaning down and catching her lips with his own, feeling her involuntary shudder at first, then claiming his lips and kissing him back.

Her unbandaged hand came up to rest on his cheek, a soft caress along his jaw and she broke the kiss, leaning back and stared at him, her eyes forgiving but determined.

"_Andy_," her voice sounded small and fragile, "_I care about you – you know that._"

She seemed to be waiting for him, so he gave a nod.

"_But this,_" she pointed between them, "_this cannot be anything but a mistake. We aren't good for each other, okay. You drink too much – and I drink with you._"

He swallowed – this sounded remarkably like the speech his ex-wife had given him upon filing for divorce – just devoid of a few well-chosen curses.

"_We are not supposed to be involved. We cannot do our jobs, if we continue this._"

Her hand brought him closer, her green eyes beseeching in the dark light.

"_I'm married,_" she paused and drew a breath, the warm air slithering across his jaw, "_well – I was married. I think Steven wants to call it quits. But I love him, okay. I love my husband._"

Her lips trembled.

"_I'm sorry, Ray – I really am. I shouldn't have told him,_" he took a step closer and brought her close, enveloping her in his arms, nestling her head under his jaw and pressing a soft kiss to her hair. He felt her shake a little and then she calmed down, warm and soft in his embrace.

"_My fault – I shouldn't have fucked you_"

"_No, no – I shouldn't have fucked you,_" he dryly retorted and she gave a short laugh.

**-o-**

**.**

**.**

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and for following this story; =)

/Iso


	5. Part 4 Yellow

**Part IV; Yellow**

**-o-**

Soothing and almost entrancing the color exploded behind his eyes when she was near him. A calm citreous sheen of brief euphoria just at the sight of her. But it never lasted long; the gentle primrose of bliss always followed by a darker shade. The color would immediately expand, change and suddenly it was the darker hue of topaz that enveloped him, reminding him of the darkness he otherwise occupied. But the respite of her, the brief moment in which life was vibrantly bright; it was good.

It was alluring and mysterious – forbidden and dangerous. Her red hair seemed to beckon him, beguiled him, soft to his touch. Shadows danced in the dark vinous tresses, playing with the pale light that shone in through a lone window, night outside. Why Sharon was in his bed when she had explicitly told him she loved her husband was beyond Andy's comprehension. Why she clung to him, her body snaked along his, when she had told him they couldn't do this was beyond contemplating. He only questioned it in the solitude of his mind, in the dark of night when he was alone and had trouble remembering why he should not ruminate about Sharon and him – it only left him with a headache. Running his fingers through the long strands he wondered why he ever let her go – why he ever let her out of his sight.

Couldn't she feel the leash from his heart to hers – couldn't she feel the tugs? He felt them, trembling and unsecure but persistent – if only he could hold her tight. She was his treasure – buried deep within his heart, beneath his skin – always lingering in his mind. He had grown accustomed to the feeling of her presence always in the back of his thoughts, her scent forefront in his memories, the feel of her body lush and vivid whenever he closed his eyes. But he knew that whereas he was anchored to her, she herself was drifting - out of his reach. The feeling left him breathless.

"_I'm transferring to internal affairs_"

The words seemed to roll off her tongue in a silent thunder, ghosting across his skin, her mouth nestling against his neck. He stroked her hair, tangling their legs further, bringing her flush up against him. Her words surprised him but yet he had expected them and as such he was caught in the feeling of ambiguity. Words abandoned him however.

"_You okay?_" she whispered at his silence, her tone hesitant and tinged with something that sounded almost sweet.

"_No… not really_" he mumbled, not sure what to say, the words almost stuck in his throat and rough when they left his lips.

"_I'm sorry_" her fingers caressed the sides of his abdomen, her nose nestling further into his skin, burrowing down. Her words felt contrite yet resolute.

"_I'll miss you._" He told her, fitting her closer and kissing her hair. Maybe he could have begged her to stay with him in robbery/homicide, maybe she would have obliged and stayed but he couldn't put the words forth. She deserved to get away – he wanted her to get away. Away from this chaotic life that seemed to envelop him. If only they had never continued their affair in the first place he thought, but he knew that would never have been possible, for him. He was too attached.

"_I know_" she kissed his neck, her lips soft and pliant.

For a moment they lay in silence, bodies close and warm. Andy opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to rein in his thoughts. But they flittered away – he shouldn't have drowned the rest of the bottle he scolded himself. He shouldn't be drinking, not when she was here. But she never said a word even though he knew she tasted the acid flavor whenever she kissed him. But then again, he never told her she had a waiting husband at home. A husband who had decided not to divorce her after all. Whenever he thought too much, it all seemed to be wrapped up in a shitty mess.

Sometimes he found himself resenting her, only to be reminded it wasn't her but himself he loathed. He would drink… fuck her … drink some more – and come into work hungover, grumpy and distant. They'd drifted apart at work – she would file paperwork and he would go with the guys or she would work a crime scene and he would disappear. It was a miracle neither of them had cracked yet, a miracle no one seemed to notice. They had both been cleared after the whole undercover ordeal, neither to blame officially. But the aftermath of it lingered in the both of them, like dirt that would never come off. Grime upon their souls, unyielding and ever present in the uniform.

"_I'm pregnant,_" her words this time felt cold against his skin, dangerous and yet so full with warmth. He was too shocked by them to reply. This was something he had not expected – at all.

He held his breath, afraid he would crumble, disintegrate into atoms, if he opened his mouth.

"_I'm not sure who the father is – I mean-well… it could be,_" she stopped, her voice tentative and small, "_It could be Steven_"

The name drenched him cold – god he hated that name.

"_It could be you_" she was quiet in his arms, he felt her holding her breath, still and waiting for his response.

He felt choked; felt he was spinning out of control. He wanted to laugh, pull her closer and bask in the feel of being complete with her – but what he wanted was tainted. It would become even more tainted; he would ruin it. He would envelop her in darkness too; bring her soul into his defective, marred purgatory.

"_I'm a mess_"

She flinched, edging out of his arms, panic set in her eyes. His words were cold in the air between them. They had to be otherwise she would climb further into his heart, integrate herself to the point where he had no choice but to pull her into his darkness.

"_Listen, maybe it's better if Steven is the father,_" he tried to explain, "_I'm an angry drunk, would be a lousy father and I'm an even worse partner_"

It was better this way. He would only drag her down with him, into his own personal hell and she would end up resenting him for it. He couldn't bear that. No, he wanted her to shine. He would only douse and possible put out any light in her.

"_You—you – you don't mean that_" she was upset, on the brink of crying. He felt her shivering, her warmth leaving as she edged away, arms coming around herself in a hug.

"_Sharon – you belong with Steven. You should be home with him, not here with me._"

"_Right,_" she was across the room in no time, clothes hurriedly being put on and eyes avoiding him. He felt his heart breaking, something wrenching it, clutching it and wringing it in pain. He scooted to the edge of the bed, tried to stand up but his legs trembled.

"_I'm sorry … I really am,_" he told her, something heavy and oppressive constricting his chest as she stood with tears brimming and glistening, threatening to fall. But worse even, anger simmered just behind the tears, hot and ablaze.

"_You should sober up, Andy – the force will find out eventually and you'll be out on your ass_"

She left slamming his door, angry steps retreating into his kitchen and living room and finally he heard his front door slamming as well.

He lay still, petrified as he looked at the ceiling, hoping she would forgive him in time – or better yet forget him altogether. Feeling morose and the coming of a headache, he walked into his kitchen, grabbed a full bottle of brown liquid, drank the foul-smelling, familiar liquid directly from the bottleneck. He sauntered to his couch – his bed would have her scent – depositing himself on the soft cushions, pouring the alcohol as he went.

He was a stupid fuck and sure as hell he was going to drown his sorrows.

**-o-**

Jealousy was an ugly thing, Andy reckoned but nevertheless he hung onto the feeling like he was drowning. At the present it was the only thing that held him up, the only thing that made him feel alive – that and his whiskey.

Garner, an old buddy of his, shoved him to one AA meeting after the other. So when the whiskey went down the drain all that were left in Andy was the almost manic, sickly yellow feeling of jealousy. It was the one thing he could acquiesce himself with and the one thing that made him get up in the mornings.

It only grew and intensified, this dark feeling, coiling in his heart and running through his blood, settling into his mind whenever he saw her. For everytime he watched her and catalogued all the small different things about her. She started showing, the little bump on her stomach growing in tact with his animosity towards her.

Once he caught himself bumbling into her in the hallways accompanied by a beaming Steven. Sharon smiled tentatively at him, Steven laid his arm protectively around her, his eyes slightly narrowed as he stood and regarded Andy as an intruder. Andy had felt nauseous, his mind tingling for the numbing taste of alcohol and his hands twitching with anxiety. He had nodded, an almost unnoticeable nod, and hurriedly moved away from the couple. He had gone straight to a bar and only managed to call his sponsor once he had been plastered. A minor setback.

One day, after months of being immersed in a liquid pool of asphyxiating self-hatred and envy Andy found Sharon in his squad room. She was heavily pregnant now, hands permanently attached to the back of her spine in support. She was chatting with Sergeant Nielsen, Andy's new partner, and looked up when he entered. Her smile was hesitant but radiant nonetheless;

"_Andy, I was looking for you,_" even her voice seemed cautious as if she expected him to bolt out the door immediately. She had never struck him as a timid person – it wasn't in her nature.

"_Well, here I am_," his voice must have sounded somewhat restrained for Nielsen gave him a look that clearly said, _dude-get it together_.

"_Can we talk? In private?_"

God, she looked huge. Not in a bad way but he had only seen her from afar the last few months. A fact that suited him just fine. If he did not see her up close, he could almost forget she existed. He could almost forget his heart was in pieces then.

"_Sure,_" he replied even though he mostly wanted to say heck no. But instead he pointed at the small cabinet room where all their files were stacked and backed up. She followed him and closed the door behind her. When she closed the blinds as well he went into instant flight-mode.

Her eyes turned soft as she looked at him; something he had not expected.

"_How have you been?_"

"_Just great._" He didn't want to small talk.

"_I hear-_" she stopped and shyly cast a look sideways before she continued, "_I hear you're doing well with you know, um. I mean, I heard you are going to meetings_"

Sharon had never been this shy about a subject; she had never had trouble about quickly getting to the crux of things. She struck him as another person now, standing hesitant and half smiling, the round protruding belly of hers seeming like some strange vision out of a nightmare. Maybe if he closed his eyes she would disappear.

"_Oh yes – ,_" his voice was harder than usual, rough and dismissive: "_I'm_ _going to meetings and all that stuff. Haven't had a drink in 2 months now_"

"_I'm happy for you, Andy, truly,_" she said and he supposed it was the truth. He wished he could be happy for her as well. He wished a lot of things.

"_What do you want to tell me? I assume you pulled me in here for a reason? Not to chitter-chatter!_"

He wished he could ask her about how she was doing, whether she was happy? Ask her if he could touch her stomach. Ask her if they could go back to being friends. But he was full of darkness, rank and heavy in his soul; resentment and anger never did anything good for him but it was something warm to hang unto – something to make him feel just a little bit alive.

Sharon sighed and looked uncomfortable.

"_We had a test done_"

"_Test? What test?_"

"_Paternity test,_" her eyes turned almost light grey, shimmery and Andy found himself swallowing his own pain quickly before he sported the same half-sad, painful expression.

"_I know you said you didn't want anything to do with… I mean, I just thought you would like to know the baby. It isn't yours,_" she finished with a breath of air, her smile vain and tight.

"_Oh_," he replied as he fell into an abyss he had not let himself consider. Like a dream shattering into pieces, blown apart – a dream you had hidden in the darkest corners of your mind and had forgotten existed until the moment it didn't happen.

He had a hard time looking at her. He should be happy for her; this was for the best after all. But all he felt was the sadness inside him and the incapacity to feel anything else.

"_That' all?_" he grumbled and stalked out the door when she nodded. He shoved the picture of her sad eyes away, and instead called his sponsor. It was either that or go to the nearest bar; it wasn't an easy decision. Drinking himself into oblivion; that would be the cure. Unfortunately he called his sponsor. He cursed himself; cursed Sharon as well.

**-o-**

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Thank you for the lovely reviews guys; I'm in heaven =)


	6. Part 5a Intermezzo

**Part Va; Intermezzo**

**-o-**

Sinful – the color was dark and vinous. Like the bitter taste of dark red wine, opaque in its iridescent shade. Anger burned a hot orange, saffron colored and exotic, coursing through his body in swift oscillations of electricity. Competing in this marathon was the burning flames of dark desire, deep red in its depths, almost smothering in its intensity. Acrid yet enticing, enveloping Andy in a haze of tantalizing, frantic desire. A fine claret intermingling with the sour bitter taste of fury. It was altogether two very powerful tangents; pulling him in and overwhelming him with their vibrancy.

He savored the moan escaping Sharon's lips, the texture of her lips rough against his own, their desperate attempt to absorb as much of each other as they could belaying any softness in their approach. He wanted to transfer his pain to her, wanted to drown her in his darkness. Nothing gentle lingered long in his mind.

He pushed hard against her, enjoying feeling her shudder as her back collided firmly with the solid wall behind them. He drew her arms up, taking her wrists hostage while he plundered her mouth and let his other hand grab her hips for leverage. Forcing her legs part he put his thigh between hers, gleeful when she whimpered.

For a brief moment Andy had sudden hesitant thought; this was all wrong. Stupid and beyond wrong. How could they ever hope to reconcile if their default mode always brought them farther apart? Angry sex wouldn't diminish their hostility or clear their slate – they still hadn't said a word to each other in five years. Five years of silence and glances of barely concealed bitterness whenever they crossed each other's path. Five years... Now, when he looked back at that time when they had been friends and life had seemed like an easy thing, it felt like an eternity had passed. Five years were a long time.

Sometimes he was a big, stupid bastard, Andy berated himself. Sometimes he did not think of the consequences. Usually it worked rather well on the job which was most likely the reason he was in homicide/robbery – he had guts and acted before he asked. Sometimes that was a blessing. Not now. Well in a way it was but the consequences – they would only make whatever existed between him and Sharon worse.

But who cared when they had Sharon Raydor up against the stall of a restroom, pinned and struggling to roam her hands through his hair. Who cared when his hand was on her inner thigh, moving upwards towards her center and her lips was sealed to his.

Andy should care. He really should. Especially considering the circumstances that had brought them here after five years of indifference and animosity. Especially in light of what happened the last time they made this mistake. They should be reconciling, he lamented. They should not release their torrents of hate and guilt at each in the hallways at work, plain for everyone to grasp and free for everyone to see. But oh – she had been investigating him. She had been awful. And apparently he had been worse. Otherwise they wouldn't have bumped into each other, spilled their respective coffees and jumped right into a screaming match. Andy briefly entertained the thought that he hadn't manhandled her into the nearest room – which turned out to be a restroom, but instead had apologized. He should have apologized and controlled the situation – not given into his anger. But he missed her so much! And deep down, he knew, apologizing wouldn't work. They were both too stubborn, too engrossed in their own world of righteousness and anger.

This was bound to only end in tears. But , he was so angry; the feeling too intense to ignore, too addictive to come to terms with.

He told his mind to shut up – and it was easier than he had imagined. He jumped right back into the desirable feeling of ravishing Sharon.

"_You're fucking wet,_" he whispered in a growl, his voice raw. He caught her moan with a kiss, the delightful taste of her overwhelming, his hand under her skirt, fingers travelling between her legs, under the slip of underwear and burying inside her, sliding in and out of her warmth, wet and slick. He could feel her arousal mixing with her anger; the taste of it on her lips, bitter and tart – but oh so tantalizing. He wanted to make her scream. Her eyes were closed, head tilted far back and the exposed expanse of her neck and collarbone drew his lips, beckoning his lips to graze, "_You are so fucking tight_"

She opened her eyes and he stared into pools of liquid fire; green fiery flames of fury.

He smiled, knew she would find the same look of anger in his own eyes.

This was wrong, but oh so perfect. Like dark, rich chocolate – decadent and tangy in bitterness. He wanted to devour her. Wanted to melt into her – delve into the feeling of her till nothing existed but touch.

"_Just shut up and fuck me,_" she bit back, her hands coming free from his grip and descending to his belt.

**-o-**

Andy felt horrible yet complacent at the same time. Caught between an almost absurd need to swathe Sharon into his arms and the urge to yell at her. Trapped between wanting to murmur apologies into her hair and wanting to make her cry in anguish. Why hadn't she stopped them! This had been a horrible idea.

What did you tell your once friend when time caught you both half undressed in a restroom, anger and lust satisfied and what remained between you was just an atrocious feeling of inadequacy and hollowness.

"_This never happened,_" Sharon told him, her tone hard and her eyes avoiding him. He couldn't look anywhere but at her, his stare riveted to her being, to the outline of her as she righted her clothes, smoothed down her hair and bit down upon her lower lip.

There was nothing to say but words that would sting and burn; drive the wedge further in and twist it till the distance between them was no longer approachable. Nothing but to clench down on the flittering in his stomach, the queasiness that rumbled and demanded to be assuaged. Drowse his heart and fuel the darkness within him; dark, twisted tendrils of rage that would never be softened but would keep him from drowning in despair.

Andy stepped forward, swift, and a surprised Sharon finally looked him in the eye when he gripped her chin, tilting eyes to align with him. "_Whatever,_" he half-snarled before letting go and barging out of the stall, buttoning his shirt, fiddling with his tie and contemplating how they had ended up here in the first place.

**-o-**


	7. Part 5b Intermezzo II

**Part Vb; Intermezzo II**

**-o-**

Dull and inanimate, colorless and bleak – time faded into a blur. Streaks of years flying by, of missed opportunities and betrayed friendship, of misguided emotions and gone connections. The color of time passing, of being in separate lives that never seemed to collide; it was a dull, dull greyness. Remote and faded, barely an existence at all. Yet despair borne out of something intangible followed the wake of life for Andy. Simply, he forgot her sometimes; and forgetting her made him sad. A sadness buried and barely there for him to comprehend. Life, as ever, continued on – no regards for what was left behind.

Twelve years of barely any contact with his old friend brought out the feeling of ambiguity, of both discontent and content settling in his being. (It was seven years since their disastrous mistake in the restroom but he kept it locked up tight in some dark recess of his mind, so it didn't really count).

Twelve years and he had only caught glimpses of her. They had come to a silent agreement apparently; never stopping whenever they saw each other – always looking the other way and hurrying on. Twelve years sober on his part – twelve years of silence from her. He knew – from sources – she had two children now, still married, climbing the proverbial ladder as she made captain.

Andy resented her – found himself partaking in attacking internal affairs along with the rest of his squad in homicide/robbery – name-calling under their breath and condescending looks whenever the small group of force investigators came down from the offices above. He found himself cataloguing everything he loathed about her. And yet – he loved her. It was disparaging, a conflict of emotions still in turmoil in his soul. But it was something which had resided within him for so long he sometimes took no notice.

Hostility was nothing new – an old familiar lodging in his soul, taking residence a long time ago – reappearing whenever he forgot to hold himself together. He was a hostile drunk – mean spirited and calculating, he knew that. Several people had contented to tell him that – and without the control of bitter alcohol he was still hostile. He was content to be aggressive and caustic; without the benefits of intoxication. He was turning into one of those old, grumpy veterans everyone silently hated and wished would retire.

"_Lieutenant,_" Sharon's syrupy voice rang out, emotionless yet gleeful, he thought. He cringed at the tone, the vibration settling under his skin, itching and irritating, "_is that sweet partner of yours going to deem us with his presence or not?_"

He gave a shrug, annoyed at her presence in his squad room. Hell, when FID showed up all the kids played nice; Narcotics and the Gang Unit would suddenly be plotting nicely how best to rid themselves of the hated plague and Robbery/Homicide would cover up whatever they felt was necessary, even helping the guys from Traffic. A common enemy was always a good groundbreaker.

Andy looked up, eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance. Black form-fitting clothes, a skirt cut just below her knees, sleek as it hugged her thighs. Matching jacket and hard black spectacles. He hadn't looked at her closely in twelve years and he noticed how everything really had changed. Gone was the soft, flirty young woman he had known – replaced by this rigid, rule abiding person; manicured and well-dressed, wrinkles and laugh lines. Even her hair had changed, he mused, tresses of dark apricot in between darker shades of red.

"_He went for coffee,_" he grumbled, still eyeing her. She stood with arms crossed, chin pointed out in silent preparation for a fight, he could tell.

"_How convenient,_" she retorted her voice dry and an eyebrow arched in a derisive manner.

"_Indeed_" he replied in an equally dry tone, his hands shaking as he tried to control his emotions. He still remembered the last time they had tried to hold a decent, polite conversation – it had backfired and they had both stalked off but not before throwing a few ugly names into the departing flurry. Apparently they couldn't even figure out how to exist in the same room without letting their resentment be known.

Both of them held their words, staring at each other, silence slipping around them in a cocoon of barely contained resentment. Hard glares and unresolved tension, Andy thought.

Soon someone would walk in, directly into the cold silent war raging in the room, and wonder what the hell was going on.

Sharon rectified that however, "_The report says you weren't present when detective Knowles shot Ms. Shaw?_"

"_Car broke down,_" his voice turned monotone.

"_You arrived half an hour later, is that correct?_"

"_If that is what it says, yeah_"

She gave him a disparaging look, and sighed under her breath.

"_So you cannot account for the shootout at all!_"

"_I can account just fine for Detective Knowles' character_"

"_Hmm,_" she hummed and jotted something down in a little black notebook.

"_You're acting like he shot some decent, innocent kid – not a junkie bitch_"

"_The junkie bitch'_s_ mother; _Senator _Marsden, is suing the LAPD for wrongful conduct and discharge of weapon, negligence in duty… et cetera,_" she let the last two words out slowly, as if talking to an obstinate, below intelligent child and continued in a sarcastic tone, "_I am merely trying to discern what happened and whether the LAPD is going to be filing for bankruptcy!_"

"_So, you are _merely_ the hall monitor! I bet you enjoy that, running around catering to the whims of everyone but the police, huh_"

"_Yes, Lieutenant – you nailed it. I've forgotten your brilliant insight into psychology_"

"_You know, I have really missed your sarcastic, bitchy attitude_"

"_Likewise,_" she bit out between clenched teeth, her eyes dark and full of fire as she tried to glare him down. Her breathing was irregular and Andy felt his eyes rivet to her cleavage as she crossed her arms defensively.

Sometimes he felt lust wasn't very far away from contempt.

Their battle however was suddenly put to a halt.

"_Captain,_" his partner exclaimed as he strode into the squad room, balancing three coffees in his hands, "_I apologize for being late – I hope you like espresso_" Knowles said with a smile and handed Sharon one of the cups. Andy was sure the same shocked expression on Sharon's face mirrored his own.

"_Detective Knowles,_" Sharon acknowledged him with a half-hesitant smile, slender fingers around the steaming cup. Andy took the proffered coffee as well, eyes narrowed further as he watched his partner, wondering at his most bizarre behavior.

"_Don't worry capt'n, I didn't poison the coffee,_" his partner laughed sincerely, his white teeth barred in what Andy knew as his I'm-gonna-charm-your-pants-off smirk.

Sharon looked dubious but sipped her coffee with a little grin nonetheless, head tilted to the side as she regarded both of them.

"_Capt'n,_" his partner continued in an annoyingly friendly voice. Andy tried to arch his eyebrow at him, to inquire silently why he was behaving as if he'd known Sharon all his life but his partner's eyes were firmly glued to the form of the captain. "_I know the incident-report is, by my own fault, somewhat lacking. I was rather distracted, and I couldn't really think that straight to write everything down_"

Andy sneered; you didn't blab and blubber to FID about your own incompetence – what was Dennis thinking!

"_It's perfectly understandable, detective – I just need to narrow down a more precise timeline, for my report. What time did you arrive at the scene?_"

His partner answered and Sharon jotted down. She asked him a string of time-related questions and Dennis continued to answer in a nicely-friendly tone. It grated his nerves, Andy thought. You didn't comply with FID; you made life difficult for them. Dammit, you didn't bring them coffee – you sipped your own and smiled deridingly in their direction. He sighed – Sharon was enjoying this molly-cuddling; her smile genuine as she alternated between jotting times down in her blasted black notebook and sipping coffee with her red-colored lips.

Done with her questions she bid both of them a good day, smiled at Dennis and gave Andy an arched eyebrow as she left through the glass doors, into the hallway her hips swaying.

Andy rolled his eyes, swiftly leaping to his feet, "_Ass-kisser_" he retorted to his partner before hurrying after Sharon determined to continue whatever fight Dennis had interrupted.

"_Aren't you forgetting something?_" he asked in clipped tones as he caught up with her.

She swirled around on her heels and he came just up short of stumbling into her.

"_Pardon_!"

God, even her genuine look of surprise annoyed him.

"_Whatever hex you threw on my partner – how about undoing that_" he smirked condescendingly, enjoying the minute tightening of her lips.

"_Ha ha – your comedic flair astounds me Lieutenant, really_"

"_So, what – you promised him a clean record if he behaved like a well-trained puppy!_"

"_Why don't you go fuck yourself!_"

Oh, he loved when he made her angry enough to resort to profanity.

"_With pleasure, _Captain_ – unless you wanna join?_"

She rolled her eyes, lips pouted in uncontrolled contempt.

"_Asshole_"

"_Bitch_"

And they stalked off to each their offices, fury in their footsteps and blazing fire in their hearts. Andy didn't know whether to be pleased or furious – god he hadn't held a decent conversation with her for twelve years. Sure it was only seven years since the incident with the whole angry-sex-come-together but that had been far beyond any form of the word decent. Twelve years and the only thing they could manage were insults and hurtful words. He huffed; torn between feeling happy they'd departed before anything more painful had been said and anguished he didn't get to yell more at her. Despite disliking her presence he felt an inner need to make her smile, to watch a full blossom of a smile light her eyes and warm her countenance. It was disparaging!

**-o-**

**.**

**.**

Thank you all for following and your encouraging reviews. Don't worry - there'll be happy times ahead. =)


	8. Part 6 White

**Part VI; White**

**-o-**

The color intertwined with him, within him and beyond him – canescent but bright. It invaded him, a sudden calm and unfamiliar rush of balance, steadying him and leaving gaping holes in his mind for all his darkness to seep from. It happened gradually, in tact with the grey and white streaks appearing in his hair – slowly but suddenly he felt as if his inner core, his darkly soul, finally caught upon a light. Maybe it was true; wisdom settling in as he grew older. The transition was subtle though; every morning he would find himself in less of a cage of darkness. He would miss alcohol less and less – only to suddenly altogether forget that he was an alcoholic some days. He was still the caustic, aggressive guy at work – but he felt an inner peace; something he had never thought possible. And in all the brightness and vivid balance within him, he found himself reminiscing and instead of only finding the sordid, dark recollections of his past he found himself thinking of an old friendship that had been just as bright in his life.

"_Cleared of all charges,_" sergeant Jonathan Raschi was bragging to the whole squad room as Andy left, people applauding and cheering. He had congratulated the homicide detective but he didn't feel like staying. Most probably the gang was going to hit a bar and he couldn't stand the smell of alcohol today. No one was mentioning Sharon Raydor – she might have been the one to make sure Raschi was cleared but in the hearts of the squad she was the hated menace and per silent agreement no one mentioned her when she did something good. Most curious thing ever though, no one remembered sergeant Raydor and how she had been one of them, how she had gone to bars and baseball games with them and covered their back working their beat.

Loyalty was a strange thing, Andy mused. Deep down he knew he and the old gang would protect Sharon if it came down to it, knew that were she in a potentially dangerous situation they would have her back. Years back a young officer had attacked her in his rage of being kicked off the force - shooting a petty thief in the back while drunk off his ass was a one way ticket out – and the angry kid had barely managed to split Sharon's lip before he was knocked to the ground by the force of four people tackling him. They were like a dysfunctional family, Andy thought, and hell personified if anyone tried to assault her or hurt her. He remembered it vividly having been one of the first to react and punch the bastard to the ground, right behind Nielsen and Taylor. You protected family; even when they broke your heart.

Most of the old gang were gone, only a few of them left. The new ones had never had a beer with sergeant Raydor only been on the frightening end of a glare from the captain. Andy, perhaps because of all his inner reflecting and reminiscing, felt like seeing his old partner.

It had been a year since he had last talked to her; if you could call their spiteful and angrily yelling at each a talk. But yesterday he had caught a glimpse of her and he had been so surprised to find that the first feeling he had wasn't the usual bright fire of animosity. No, it had been an altogether different feeling; an intense coiling in his spine and a vibrant feeling of loss. The outline of her had been so familiar it had hurt not to be able to saunter along with her, and gripe about the recent baseball game he had been to. This need to reconnect with her, it had surprised him.

He kept telling himself he should grow up, behave like an adult. Mend the rift. Easier said than done, apparently. He seemed to be dumped into an angry pool every time she was near, a bizarre need to slip under her skin and start a fire – but not yesterday. Not today, he mused.

He felt discontent in his body; like an ever surging bolt of electricity, jarring and thrumming within him – he was restless. Why now of all times, he decided to do something about it, he didn't know. What made today special? Why now all of a sudden, when he could have mended things a long time ago. His anger hadn't disappeared, it nestled within him, but mostly it was covered in sadness. And maybe, that was why. Age brought wisdom apparently, and he was only getting older and older.

He took the stairs two floors up in a jog wanting the rush to run through his body and rid himself of whatever energy that might want to make him furious. That and he needed the courage of a pumping heart, the thudding of blood flow to steady him. He found her office quickly and took a small minute to breathe and then knocked on the door. He didn't wait for permission though but opened the door immediately and went through.

"_Hey_"

"_Lieutenant_" she looked up from a big pile of paperwork, surprise in the depths of her eyes as she viewed him suspiciously from behind her spectacles.

He took a seat in the chair opposite her, the desk between them.

"_What can I help you with, Lieutenant Flynn?_" she asked in a cordial tone but he noticed the hard glint in her eyes as she looked at him.

"_Came to congratulate you on the case,_" he tried to smile reassuringly at her but he wasn't sure if he had succeeded by the look of her. She crossed her arms and her smile was anything but friendly.

"_Why, thank you. Anything else?_" it sounded like a dismissal. Unfortunately for her, Andy never did what was asked of him, especially where she was concerned.

"_Was gonna invite you out for coffee_," he grinned, "_but not sure I wanna land in the hospital when you knock me down_"

Her smile turned wry but still distrustful. He didn't trust himself either, so he let it slide.

"_You really are something of a bastard, you know that_"

He smiled back and gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. He was a first-grade bastard, he'd never had any illusion that he wasn't. But he would behave for her sake – and his own.

"_So, coffee?_"

"_On one condition, Andy_"

"_Name it,_" he grinned even wider now, the way she said his given name a blessing. They would end up reconciling, he was sure. They bitched about each other, had grim, childlike quarrels that lasted for a decade but in the end they would hopefully forgive each other – even if thirteen years had passed. He would dislike her again tomorrow and sure enough she would loathe him as well; but this evening they could pretend to be friends again.

"_You're buying_" her smug smile as she cleaned her desk and stood was warm, and Andy felt his heart flutter just the slightest.

"_Shaaron – you're the one earning all the bucks_"

"_Yes,_" she just replied, smug as ever.

He rolled his eyes but stood as well. "_Meet you at Joe's?_"

"_Yeah_"

And they went their separate ways, to go to their separate cars and meet up.

Andy whistled. He felt content; but surreal. It had been absurdly easier than he'd imagined. Maybe Sharon had grown just as tired of the constant animosity as well. Maybe she longed to reach out, and connect again. Maybe she missed him, deep down, as well.

**-o-**

"_God_! _How long has it been?_"

"_Since you've had amazing coffee?_"

"_Oh, I have _amazing_ coffee every day, Lieutenant,_" she sipped her coffee as she regarded him with a saucy smile.

"_Touché_"

"_Ten?-eleven years?_"

"_Thirteen,_" he answered promptly.

"_You must really despise me_"

"_I try to_"

"_I imagine that is awfully hard to do,_" she joked.

"_Ye-es,_" he laughed.

They both went silent, sipping their warm, black coffee and pretending not to look too friendly at each other. And pretending whatever happened eight years back hadn't. Pretending nothing had happened in the last thirteen years. Pretending there wasn't this great, big deep rift separating them, pretending they had never yelled a single hurtful word at each other. Andy liked all this make-believe; it wasn't real but it sure as hell was perfect as long as it lasted.

"_You know, I have missed you,_" Sharon shared confidently, almost hesitantly, her eyes vulnerable.

"_Me too_" Andy acknowledged, picking up her small hand and enveloping her slender fingers in his, half surprised she didn't flinch back immediately. It seemed almost dreamlike sitting with her, none of them in a fit of anger. He felt an instant surge of contentment rush through him at the contact, marveled at the feel of her skin – happy he could touch her despite so much time passing, despite all the bad blood between them.

"_If you were anyone else, I would have had you kicked off the force years ago, not to mention all the sexual harassment seminars I would have forced you to go to,_" her smile was almost kind.

"_How tolerant of you_," he grinned.

"_Yes, I'm a very tolerant person_"

They both laughed.

"_Seriously though, why are we sitting here pretending everything is perfect? Tomorrow, we'll be back at each other's throats. We haven't gotten together like this for years – why now?_"

It was a genuine question – one he wondered about himself. He answered, and the words tumbled out of him. He was only half conscious of what he was saying; "_I don't know. I really don't. I still recent you sometimes. I guess, I thought maybe we could give it a try, try to coexist. And I don't hate you. I want our friendship back – or just some part of it back – if it's possible._"

"_Start anew? Erase everything that turned things bad? Is that even possible_?"

"_I hope so; I'm willing to try_," as the words left his mouth he was acutely aware of the truth in them. He hadn't realized until now, how much he wanted to mend the chasm between them; "_I'm not looking for absolution, Sharon, or forgiveness. But haven't enough time passed? Aren't we too old to be holding unto our grudges still?_"

Her eyes, green and vivid, were once again familiar to him – they seemed to look right into his soul, anchoring the depths of her stare into his being.

"_I would like that, Andy. To fix us – to get my friend back, you know the one who would sit with me after a long day of work and discuss baseball. Heck; you are the only one who still calls me Ray._" her answer was gentle and he hewed a sigh of relief. The world hadn't ended and yet he felt as if it had turned upside down; righted itself. He felt light-headed, almost to the point of faint. It was such a freeing feeling of relief that he had trouble comprehending anything but her little smile directed at him.

Why hadn't he done this ten years ago? Why had they let every resentment, misunderstanding and mistake fester?

They were both silent again, this time trying to avoid each other's glances.

"_So tell me, what have you been doing these last thirteen years? I hear those kids of yours are practically the devil spawn,_" he enquired, not knowing if the topic was safe or if maybe it was a hazardous catastrophe waiting to happen. But he wanted the silence to go away, and take away the sudden slightly awkward atmosphere.

"_Oh don't get me started; I have been raising wolves! Spoiled, ungrateful brats,_" her tone was full of warmth and Andy grinned with her, imaging small reckless red-haired children dragging mud into the house and wrecking all other kind of chaos upon Sharon's life.

They both grinned, Andy nodding, "_I wouldn't imagine kids of yours behaving any other way_"

The moment was sweet as they both laughed again, and Andy would have felt certain bliss but maybe the topic wasn't that safe at all, transferring him back to a talk he'd had with a heavily pregnant Sharon thirteen years ago, and how that day everything had gone to hell. Everything that had started their animosity towards each, how it could be traced back to that moment, that very day. The reason he had tried to hate her for the last decade. The whole mess of course started eight months before that; but that was still too vulnerable to contemplate and think about.

He remembered it clearly, remembered that even though he had told her she would be better off without him, some part of him had silently prayed the kid was his. Silently prayed she would stay with him.

It was all bittersweet to him.

He saw his own anguish reflected in her green gaze as they locked eyes again. Bittersweet pain and buried, half-asphyxiated love.

"_That day is still so clear to me, you know – haunting. How I wished you'd said he was mine,_" he ventured and he looked hesitantly as Sharon turned a puzzled frown unto him, and he watched as realization dawned, eyes widening and mouth quivering just the slightest. She looked away.

"_I prefer not to think about that day,_" she whispered and he felt his heart being torn and ripped apart, slowly and painfully even though he understood her.

He sighed; this road would never lead to anyplace good. He felt a heavy weight in his body, under his skin – the coffee suddenly stale, the room oppressive. He had to get away.

"_Andy-_" Sharon started but he quickly interrupted her, forestalling any more lamenting on the topic.

"_I've gotta go – I need some air_," he tried to sound casual and carefree but his voice came out strained and he could barely look at her face, sure it would mirror his own of terror. He stood and brushed a chaste kiss to her temple to soothe, to show that they weren't going back to their old routine but that he just needed to get away for a bit. "_Let's do this again Ray, okay._" She nodded, eyes hidden behind a curtain of red hair and he contemplated whether her eyes were sad or panicked – or maybe blank and emotionless.

He hurried out the door before he found himself taking a seat beside her and taking her chin in hand to look into her eyes. Sometimes it was better to stop when everything was middle ground; otherwise it would end up in tears and bitter words.

Love had never been easy for him – and his love for Sharon had always been a turmoil of darkness and light; and never easy at all.

**-o-**

Hehe; and they are slowly rising from all the darkness. It's almost weird to write something light now. =) Thank you all for the continued support; you are great =)


	9. Part 7 Red

**Part VII; Red**

**-o-**

Red as a pool of blood, fresh and vivacious – hair like a crown of liquid blood – cold yet inviting. He sometimes wondered if she kept the heart blood of her victims in it, the color unnatural to him. Sometimes he imagined he could see his own lifeblood in the strands of her hair – yes that must be his heartache and agony, dried tears and blood that made it shimmer so, made it so vivid in its luminance. Yet the familiarity of her red hair assuaged him; it'd had him ensnared since the first time he laid eyes upon it. He remembered the day vaguely but the color of her hair was sharp in contrast, vivid in his memories.

They had gone out together as a group all the rookies, finding the crowd of other green recruits less intimidating than the hot-tempered, loud mouths of officers who were otherwise occupying the bar. Andy couldn't remember what had caused him to approach her but he remembered sitting close with her and bitching about all the old people in the force. Good old times. Bitching about others had always been one of their favorite pastimes and had brought a sense of connection between them; the two of them against the world.

Seeing that crown of titan on a regular basis over a cup of steaming coffee, seeing green eyes envelop him into her world again and being able to talk to her as if the thirteen years of silence between them had been a nightmare long forgotten; it was bliss. It was also almost painful in its sweetness. Three years of friendship and coffee had erased the past, somehow. And they were back to that comfortable, familiar ground of amity that always only brought forth memories of their old friendship; it wasn't entirely the same, though. They were still fragile.

It had not been that long ago since they'd had their weekly coffee-gossipy date, and yet he was surprised how much she still affected him, how much his chest clenched when his eyes riveted to the familiar form of her approaching.

He looked on as she strolled through the crime scene up to her red tape where Provenza and he stood, a sway to her saunter and a barely there smirk firmly placed upon her expression as she regarded the both of them. People bitched about her nowadays, they bitched about him as well he amended, and he sometimes found it amusing how little you had to do in order to step on other's toes. Why, Sharon only had to appear and wear that smirk of hers; and it instantly had an effect on young and old officers alike. Himself; he only had to roll his eyes or grumble sarcastically with a toothpick in his mouth.

He sometimes wondered why Provenza disliked Sharon that much – it had to be something besides merely getting him into seminars on sexual harassment; heck they'd all been to one of those back in the day anyways. Provenza liked Chief Johnson – and if you went down to the basics there wasn't that much of a difference between the two women.

Speaking of the chief – _shit_ she was going to spew kittens when she found her crime scene being overtaken by the captain, Andy thought, not sure whether he should feel a small elation at seeing Sharon or whether he should feel apprehension. Maybe a bit of both. The captain was as bitchy as ever and he'd had the misfortune of her FID-presence a numerous times and the pleasure of yelling on more than one occasion at her.

Yet, somehow things had changed. Now he met with Sharon, his old partner, regularly at Joe's – enjoying a cup of coffee and avoiding talking about anything too serious. Somehow they always ended up talking about baseball and gossiping about their fellow coworkers in hushed whispers of barely contained laughter. It worked; pretending to not know each other at work and trying to be friends again outside work. They met up once every week when they could, and sure they never touched upon emotionally topics or discussed why they still fought and yelled at each other when they were in uniform but somehow it worked for them.

So, Andy felt both elation and apprehension at seeing Sharon swaggering toward him, enclosed in a form-fitting trench coat, an aura of self-importance shimmering around her. He heard Provenza sigh beside him and he felt compelled to agree – this was going to be a disaster no doubt. It was actually quite a feat that the two high-ranking smug women had not yet crossed paths. Chief Johnson didn't play nice and Sharon Raydor rarely played at all.

He sighed as well. This case was going to test his patience, he was sure.

**-o-**

"_She's worse than Captain Henderson on a bad day,_" Sharon groaned, her gaze deep into the black depths of the coffee Andy had bought her. The case had ended a few days back and he thought it was safe to share a coffee with her. He wasn't sure if he was right in that assumption though.

"_Funny, I've always thought you liked Henderson!_" Andy deadpanned knowing the old coot of police officer had the eerie habit of grating nerves raw wherever he went. The captain was long retired but had you been with the LADP in the last decade you knew who Henderson was. It had been a rite of passage back when he and Sharon had been rooks to play pranks upon the old man.

Sharon looked up from her coffee eyes narrowed and mouth thin, and then she stuck her tongue out at him before her eyes once again went to her coffee.

Sure enough, the case had been a collision of magnitude and despite feeling tugged in separate directions by the two women Andy had acted out of habit; undermining FID. It was necessary sometimes though, he thought, otherwise Sharon would have trampled them all down. So, it was either be the trampler or be trampled, he grinned to himself.

"_We are all trying to do our job_s," he tried to clarify, to soothe the last horrible days, to somehow make a connection that would not sever. To make her understand it was just work.

He got another narrowed look.

He sighed.

"_Sometimes you just rub people the wrong way, Sharon. They feel uncomfortable,_" he tried again, the moment the words left his mouth though he felt he should have just kept his mouth shut.

"_All these territorial pissing contests; it's because _I_ make people feel uncomfortable!_" she retorted in a snide tone as she shook her head at him, "_Seriously, Andy!_"

He tried to affect the conversation with a cheeky smile; "_That and your ungodly red hair_"

Sharon laughed but quickly contained it as she gave him another reproachful look.

"_And what about Miss Atlanta?_"

"_What about her?_"

"_I remember when you would sit here across from me and grumble about her, not so long ago and not too kindly_"

"_Yeah_," he paused, gave a shrug, "_I was being the usual grumpy, sarcastic bitch you always complain about_"

"_True,_" she smirked.

They both went silent for a while, alternating between watching their own coffees and each other.

"_I sure hope I won't have to invade major crimes again in the foreseeable future; I will end __up in anger management classes_"

"_You and me both_"

Silence again.

"_Provenza really doesn't like you,_" he told her with a grin. They made eye contact, and he knew from the light green, humored glint that they were past the topic of being on opposite sides.

She laughed, "_The sentiment is very much mutual,_" she said and lifted the cup to her lips. She continued when she had sipped in a conspiratorial voice; "_You know, I think he's the culprit behind my ominous new nickname_"

"_Nooo,_" Andy huffed in mock-outrage.

She smiled, genuine and warm,and he felt if time stopped right in this moment, life would be perfect.

"_I rather like it_," she admitted to him in a whisper as she leaned across the table separating them, eyes twinkling.

"_Well, if the wicked shoe fits_," he replied, poking her nose teasingly as he leaned close as well.

They both laughed, together, and leaned back, enjoying their coffee. Andy sometimes wondered if they would ever do anything but drink coffee together. It was a safe place for them, their own little world outside the existence of interoffice resentment and pride. But sometimes Andy wondered if they would ever really get to the point where they could be really friends again; not just coffee-drinking buddies. The fragile nature of their tenuous bond however halted him from taking further action, from doing anything that could jeopardize their little sanctuary.

"_You know,_" Andy started conversationally after a while, "_if the gang knew I was sitting here drinking coffee with you peacefully, they would have a collective heart attack_"

Sharon giggled.

Andy continued in the same tone, enjoying making her laugh; "_Not to mention how fast they would have me checked into psych_"

"_If my team saw me now they would haul me into psych as well; shared madness, hmm,_" Sharon countered with a half-smile.

"_Speaking of your team; that Elliot kid of yours,_" Andy started and Sharon hummed affirmatively, "_He's practically trying to kill me with his stares – he's got it in for me, I tell you_"

"_Yeah – I'm sorry to say Andy but he doesn't particularly like you_"

"_Oh_," he arched an eyebrow, "_When did I piss on his shoes?_"

"_Probably while marking your territory all over central_"

He smiled saucily at her, "_He's pissed because I upset you nonstop, isn't he?_"

She sighed, "_He's just quite protective of our team, and he's taken it upon himself to be my little soldier_"

"_He's crushing on you_!" Andy marveled.

"_I hope not! – I feel like his mother, Andy! He actually reminds me a bit of Samuel_"

They both went silent, abrupt and hesitant.

"_How is he?_" Andy tried to appear nonchalant but whenever they touched upon kids and Samuel Raydor was mentioned, _his would-be son in another reality_, he always felt as if someone had doused him in cold water. It constricted his chest and made it hard to breathe; it made him want to drown in alcohol, quite a rarity these days. But he buried the feeling deep within him; it wouldn't do him any good.

Sharon rolled her eyes, fortunately not noticing his discomfort, "_Breaking into hysterical teenager mode – it's awful!_"

"_He's what – sixteen now?_"

"_Yeah,_" she smiled proudly and Andy found himself caught in her smile, wanting to drown in the beam and the warmth of it, to catch it and keep it only for himself.

"_Ah, sixteen,_" he lamented instead, "_Do you remember that age!_"

"_Oh god, don't remind me,_" Sharon grumbled good-naturedly, and together they began to list all the horrible burdens of being a teenager and awkward.

Patience was the key, Andy thought. They would eventually, whether it be in another three years or ten, reach the place where they could languor in their friendship without the vulnerable memoirs of what-ifs. Sometime in the future they would be able to share the same breath without looking into the mirror of their own broken soul. Hell; maybe it would someday be possible to forget their lives had never not been entangled, forget the darkness they had in their past.

It was a light, uplifting feeling in his body; his mind soaring free and his soul felt light without the usual weight of heavy guilt.

**-o-**

Andy was filing paperwork, none to happily, when Provenza came and sat on his desk, hot coffee steaming in one hand and a file in the other.

"_I just talked to Jennings from Narcotics – you're never gonna believe this but guess who had to collect her kid from detention downtown yesterday!_"

Andy looked up feeling a bit annoyed at the interruption but the look of uncensored glee on his partner's face quickly did away with any annoyance he felt. Nothing was better than the latest, hottest gossip from narcotics while one was chained to a desk doing paperwork.

"_Who?_" he grinned encouragingly as he leaned back in his chair and abandoned the stack of paper files on his desk and the half-done report on the computer.

"_Our very own very special Captain Raydor,_" Provenza sing-songed.

Andy immediately felt terrible as his heart seemed to lodge permanently in his throat, mind churning at the thought of Sharon picking up her son while everyone had a laugh about it.

"_What did he do?_" Andy managed to croak out, trying to hide his discomfort and his genuine concern for Sharon Raydor. He must have somewhat succeeded for Provenza continued in the same delighted tone none the wiser.

"_The kid was caught strung out on drugs trying to rob a convenience store!_"

"_Drugs!_" his voice sounded high pierced and strange to his own ears but once again Provenza didn't notice.

"_Jennings said when Raydor came to pick him up she didn't even seem pissed. Didn't even make a scene! Can you believe that?_"

Andy couldn't believe that. In his mind, Sharon would have been furious and unable to not express that. But then again, maybe she had waited till they were home and the scolding wouldn't be broadcasted all over central.

Provenza continued, "_Did you know the wicked witch is separated? Used to be married to some rich plastic surgeon I think. He split and apparently the kid got father issues, huh._"

"_What!"_ Andy exclaimed in surprise, feeling shock render him cold. A coldness that slowly gave way to a burning angry haze – Sharon was separated and hadn't bothered telling him. It hurt; not knowing something so crucial about her and her life. He felt the feeling of dark despondence settling into his being, mixing with anger like greeting an old familiar friend.

Standing abruptly, Andy mumbled, "_Excuse me,_" to Provenza and hurried out to the elevators not catching whatever Provenza shouted at his back. He punched the button to her floor with more force than usual and impatiently waited for an elevator, hands tightly fisted and jaw clenched.

Anger simmered and burned as he rode the elevator, only intensifying as he barged through corridors, finally coming to her office and just barely remembering to knock before entering.

Sharon jumped in her chair, eyes wide and a hand covering her chest, "_Andy! You scared me!_"

"_So when were you gonna tell me!_" Andy jumped right into his anger, voice hard and arms crossed as he found himself glaring at her.

"_Tell you? Tell you what?_" the surprise was gone from her voice and she sounded annoyed, her arms crossed defensively in front of her as she stood up.

"_When – _Sharon_ – when were you going to tell me about Steven, and about your separation!_" he spoke the words slowly, eyeing her as they sank in under her skin, the color suddenly disappearing from her skin, eyes dark with something intangible – something he couldn't analyze.

"_Frankly – _Andy_ – that's really none of your concern_", her lips formed the words slowly as well, with the timbre of barely repressed anger and he could almost see her eyes darken further as she glared back at him, "_How do _you_ know? Who told you?_"

"_Provenza!_" he spat.

"_And how does that old coot know?_"

"_Apparently your high-as-a-kite son was blubbering all over detention about this and that_"

The color drained further from her face and her eyes turned to steel; a majestic statue, concrete and hard edges.

"_So, it's all over the station, and you came here to rub it in my face!_"

"_How long?_" he asked in a calmer tone although he felt far from calm, ignoring her outburst. He needed to know this.

"_Things haven't been good for a long time._"

"_How long, Sharon?_"

"_Two years_"

"_Two years! We've been going to Joe's for three years now, goddamnit Ray! – and you didn't think I should know._"

"_No – it complicates everything_" she hissed.

He held his breath and watched silently as anger seeped out of her, slipped away from him as well. It was always the easiest solution to jump directly to anger but it was never about anger. It was a cover; for the both of them. He knew that, but it was an easy habit to crawl back to and a hard habit to get rid of.

"_And Samuel_?" he asked softly, trying to keep his voice from trembling, trying to keep the fast-burning anger away.

Sharon blinked and he could feel the air going out of her, hostility fleeing and leaving behind a tired looking woman.

"_He's confused_._ He feels abandoned_, _so he acts it out_"

"_Oh – what about your other kid?_"

"_Steven's got plenty of time for Lena; it's all a mess, okay. I think,_" her voice broke, "_I think Steven is reminded of my betrayal every time he looks at Samuel_"

"_But - Samuel's his,_" Andy was confused now.

"_Yes he is – but still, Steven never really connected with Samuel. They've always had a hard relationship – and now it's even worse._"

"_I'm sorry, Ray_"

"_Don't, Andy,_" she stopped him with her hand in the air, her eyes shimmering in unshed tears.

For a moment he simply looked at her, trying to gauge what was going on behind her green obscure eyes. He felt as if the world had shifted around him, turned into a whole different reality. This changed everything, for him.

"_You should have told me,_" he reproached her although his voice was almost kind.

"_Why, what would it have changed?_"

"_Everything, dammit._ Everything! _Shit, Sharon, do you even care!_"

Her eyes widened and she took a step back, and he knew she understood. Understood what a pathetic creature he was, that after sixteen years he was still in love. Hopelessly, utterly and despicably in love with her. Absence and ridicule hadn't worked for the thirteen years of separation and neither friendship for three years. There was no salvation for him. It had been his companion for a long time this asphyxiating feeling stuck in his heart, nesting and infecting him, invading him without permission.

She looked scared, small and fragile, as she stood motionless and contemplated him. "_Of course I care,_" she said in a small voice, "_You should know that_"

"_Sharon,_" he expelled a breath, tried to expel his anger and anguish at the same time, it wouldn't help anyway. "_This_," he pointed between the two of them, "_only works if we are honest_. _I feel left in the dark_ _– and where you are concerned that has never been a good thing for me_."

"_I know, I know. But this, it still feels so fragile, Andy._" She fidgeted something she rarely did and Andy felt bad for her. She continued in a still hesitant voice, "_We only meet up for coffee – we can barely manage being civil to each other when we are in uniform and what – I was supposed to mention my separation in-between baseball-scores?_"

"_Yes!_" He might have spoken too quickly, too vehemently for she arched an eyebrow almost derisively, tilted her head as she stared him down. Back to her old self not an ounce of hesitance left in her expression.

"_Three years, Ray!_" he defended himself.

She half nodded, "_Maybe I should have told you – I just did not want to open up all those old wounds._"

He sighed. It did not really matter anymore though, he scolded himself. He knew now and if he kept this up, they would end up in a real fight and what; it would be another decade before they talked to each other again. He couldn't afford it.

"_I know. I understand. Lets forget it, okay,_" he told her and gave her a half-smile. "_I know now._"

"_Okay,_" she acknowledged, and he detected a tiny flicker of something light in her eyes, the corners of her lips lifting in a half, almost shy smile.

He felt ridiculously happy in that moment. Everything was the same and yet; everything was changed. But they were on the same page.

**-o-**

**.**

**.**

This part felt like writing fluff... =) Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews.

/Iso


	10. Part 8 Light

**Part VIII; Light**

**-o-**

Hope had the hue of a light color; weightless and blissful, a color expanding behind your eyes into a myriad of vivid and fanciful imagery. Hope had latched onto his heart, tugged him in directions he knew he shouldn't walk. Taunted him as he watched from afar, enchanted him when he was near. Hope lingered in the space between them; almost electrifying in its beguile.

Everything seemed to have changed between them; an electricity of promise in their midst, tied into their hearts and tricking them along a path they had both cursed to death a long time ago.

Joe's place had transformed as well, the atmosphere now bursting with potential and warmth. If it had been a sanctuary before it now expanded and curled around them – went with them as they left their regular secluded corner at Joe's and ventured into the real world.

They would sip their customary coffee just like they had done the past three years. They would talk about baseball, like usual. But the space between them was almost nonexistent. Why sit across from her when he could sit beside her, feel the warmth of her envelop him and enjoy the feeling of being near. Hope was a dangerous flavor in their friendship but neither of them seemed to care, Andy mused. It was like a connection that had roots deep in their hearts, intertwined into their ribs and lungs and it intensified whenever they came close enough, made it hard to breathe, hard to exist weren't it for the intoxicating essence of each other; they knew it was there but they never bothered to talk about it.

The week before they had shared a cup of coffee, leaving imprints of their lips overlapping on the rim of the cup. Sharon had given him a secret smile as she regarded him her head in her hands; and for a very long moment it felt as if nothing bad had ever been between them. It felt as if they were 25 years again and had nothing to worry about and no darkness in their past, only working their share of the nighttime beat as rookies.

The other day she had held his hand under the table, fingers interlocking and warm.

Last night he had kissed her cheek in the hallway outside the elevator at work, the place deserted but nonetheless anyone could have walked by and seen it.

Hope percolated into his being, under his skin and was coursing through his blood, infecting him dangerously.

Yet he drew a stick figure of her complete with a witchy-pointy-hat. His new gang would never understand his hope, would never understand the history he had with the woman. They would never understand that small petty things like nicknames and drawings on a whiteboard, grumbling and complaining never bothered Sharon that much. She took it as a sign that she was doing her job. Hell, major crimes had their own nicknames outside their own department; people talked about Miss Atlanta behind her back, bitched about Provenza and Andy himself. Andy still talked with some of his old buddies in robbery/homicide but a lot of the newcomers didn't really like his presence that much.

Sometimes, he thought that their workplace reminded him too much of a juvenile playground.

Nonetheless he grinned when Provenza drew a broomstick to accompany his crude drawing. Sharon would either arch an eyebrow and hum, or tilt her head with a half-amused look. Good thing Provenza didn't know that.

**-o-**

Hope was dangerous, Andy thought for the umpteenth time. It made him unhinged; he could feel the ground beneath him solidly yet felt as if he was not standing on anything at all; it was very disconcerting. Hope; that was the reason he stood in front of Sharon's apartment ready to ring the doorbell. Hope flared within him like a beacon of light; warm and comforting. It mesmerized him, he mused, entranced him into a cocoon of invincibility – why else would he even contemplate stepping outside the careful, fragile boundaries of his relationship with Sharon and invade her life. He hadn't even brought coffee, he suddenly panicked – but it was too late to turn back now, he had already rung the bell.

He felt as if the world stood still, holding its breath and letting time stop – why did it take so long to answer the effing door! Hope was the direct route to full-blown panic, Andy thought, for he was indeed in a state of intense panic that made him twitch with restlessness.

Finally the door opened. And a red-haired teenage boy looked gloomily at him from behind a curtain of unkempt hair. Green eyes so reminiscent of Sharon's. Those small lips like an exact replica. It was daunting and threw his panic into overload.

"_Um_," he stammered, "_Is Sharon home?_"

"_Who are you?_" the kid asked him in a suspicious tone, and Andy would have done the same if a stranger had knocked on his momma's door and looked as confused as he probably did.

"_Friend from work,_" Andy managed to reply, smiling at the kid as his faculties came back to him. That was the thing about panic; it came and went. And right now, it seemed beyond silly to panic about this situation. Sharon wouldn't mind; they had never laid down rules regarding visiting each other. He was being ridiculous.

"_You don't work in internal affairs!_" the kid said snottily and Andy had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

"_The LAPD does consist of more than just internal affairs, you know,_" he replied back with an equal measure of causticity. If the kid thought he could scare Andy away with a little attitude he had another thing coming.

"_Oh yeah_"

"_Yeah. Now is your mother home?_"

The kid shrugged noncommittally and Andy felt he was just seconds away from hollering Sharon's name into the door opening when her voice came unexpectedly from just inside the apartment; "_Sam!_"

She appeared in the doorway beside her son, giving Andy an apologetic look while she regarded her son with narrowed eyes.

"_Mom, this guy wanna talk to you,_" the kid grinned and quickly left the doorway.

Sharon sighed, "_Sorry; he's in one of his delightful moods_"

Andy smiled, it didn't matter. Just the sight of her standing in the door opening in an oversized cardigan and a warm smile and the world could explode, he would not notice.

"_Hi Ray_," he said with a silly smile, "_I forgot the coffee_"

"_Hi Andy,_" she replied with an equally silly smile.

They would most likely have stood there like two bumbling idiots for eternity hadn't it been for the grumpy voice of a teenager; "_You gonna stand there all day, mom!_"

The shared a look and rolled their eyes in sync; and Sharon opened the door further and Andy went inside. She took his jacket while he was busy looking around the hallway, cataloguing everything from the color of the walls to the paintings of landscapes hanging in the foyer.

"_Good thing I have a coffee machine, hhmm,_" she whispered conspiratorially to him, leading him into the kitchen.

The surly teenager occupied the kitchen, his eyes alive as they followed the form of his mother but glued themselves to Andy with what could only be described as distrust.

"_Sammy, this is Andy Flynn – from the Major Crimes unit_," Sharon introduced Andy as she made a beeline to her coffee machine.

"_Major Crimes!_" the kid exclaimed and his eyes glared even harder at Andy as Sharon sighed once again.

"_We used to be partners Andy and me, Sam_," Sharon explained as she directed a glare at her son.

Andy felt at home despite the hostility seething from the kid. It had a certain feel of calm domesticity to it; lounging in Sharon's kitchen as the smell of coffee wafted through the air and her kid was obviously feeling defensive about his mother.

"_Oh,_" the kid replied to his mother with a small grin, then turned his stare back to Andy, still a hard glint in his eyes; "_You the one my father hated?_"

The color left Sharon's face and Andy heard her small gasp of surprise. Her eyes flickered from Andy to her son an almost panicked look in their green depths.

What an obstinate yet astute kid, Andy thought with a wry smile. He answered the kid with a grin as well; "_Yeah, that would be me_"

"_Oh,_" the kid laughed, as if it made all the difference in the world, "_Mom, you could have told me your boyfriend was coming over, you know. I would have made myself sparse."_

"_Well, why don't you go do your homework then, Mister_," Sharon retorted back and Andy watched as mom and son stared at each other, identical in their minute narrowing of eyes and same small lift of the corners of their lips. He nearly chuckled at the picture they made; almost cute in their quirky mannerisms.

But Sharon was a master in the art of saying everything with a look and the kid shrugged and left the kitchen with a '_sure_' and another snotty smile directed at Andy.

"_Wauw,_" Andy breathed, "_what a piece of teen drama you've got, huh_"

Sharon laughed, "_This! This was nothing – you should see him in his natural environment_"

"_What? – the zoo?_"

She laughed again.

"_I think I would prefer a monkey – can't you train them?_" she enquired with a barely constrained smile.

"_Nah, they fling their own poo,_" Andy deadpanned.

He laughed together with her, watching as she approached him, her head tilted.

"_What are you doing here, Andy? Not that I don't enjoy your company, but?_"

"_I'm changing the rules,_" he told her with smirk. And there it was again that blasted hope; it made him unhinged certainly and too confident for his own good apparently.

"_Rules? I didn't know we had rules?_" She was humoring him; maybe hope inflicted her the same way it affected him.

"_Oh, you didn't read the memo I sent you?_"

She leaned closer and he felt that light-headedness associated only with her claim him again, reeling him into a puddle of flittering and flickering, tingling and twitching.

She stood on tiptoe and poked his nose gently; "_I don't read memos_"

He barely had time to contemplate her likewise giddy mood before she turned and went to the coffee machine, pouring black liquid into two coffee mugs.

It didn't really matter though; they had moved beyond Joe's now. And the world had not imploded – well the outside world hadn't. Andy's world felt like a trembling mountain when an earthquake struck, like everything was possible.

Hope was maybe not that dangerous after all.

**-o-**

They stumbled into each other in the hallway; darkness outside and fluorescent, artificial light inside the building. He felt gravity pull him closer to her, tugging and pulling, like a magnet.

Their eyes found each other; expressive and glinting; an entangled gaze of shared understanding.

Andy felt outside himself, high as if he was on empowering drugs. He quickly looked around, seeing no one in sight. It was close to midnight and most had left long ago. He needed to connect with her, feel the strings between their hearts realign.

He stepped closer – and closer still when she didn't move. He tugged a strand behind an ear, tilted her chin upwards, and caressed her jaw with a finger.

"_You can call me a dick if it'll make you feel better,_" he whispered, trying to coax a smile out of her. He got pursed lips and a semi smile, too weak to be entirely warm. He had been a dick certainly; but it was difficult when she came parading into Major Crimes, wreaking havoc and putting the chief on needles of ire.

"_I want to yell at you but I don't think I really want to – you know the feeling?_"

"_Yeah,_" he breathed.

Looking around he saw no one. "_Come here,_" he pulled her closer.

He could feel his skin tingling as he guided her into the nearest room, locking the door behind him with a click.

This was most likely the reason she hadn't told him about the separation. This was the reason hope was a dangerous tool to put into their hands.

To hell with it, Andy thought, bringing his lips to hers in a quick rush, his hands holding her steady. She sighed into the kiss, melted against him. He melted into her as well, the sudden familiarity and rush of emotions tumbling inside him, enough to overwhelm him. He hadn't kissed her in sixteen years. He hadn't been this close to her in sixteen years (He still didn't count the mistake in-between the sixteen years; it was buried deep in denial). Her arms wound around his waist, trembling and unsure – he felt out of control as well.

This was most definitely the reason she hadn't told him about the separation – but oh god, it felt good.

He was vaguely aware of being in a supply closet and for a brief second he wondered what would happen should Provenza or the chief walk in but it was a thought that didn't last very long. Sharon kissed him back, soft and pliant lips caressing his – gentle. Her hands however pulled him closer, digging into his shirt and his skin almost painfully, and he knew the feeling. Afraid she would suddenly disappear as well and this was just a figment of his imagination. He held unto her just as tightly.

"_I know… you think… this is complicated,_" he said in between kisses, "_but it's really not._" "_It's simple_."

She smiled into his kiss, drew back, "_Andy, nothing is simple with us_"

He disagreed but countered her smile with his own and started kissing her again; hope a full blossom in his heart. It was coursing through his body, thrumming and excited, tantalizing in its agonizing bliss.

They would most likely have continued, glued to each other, in their own little world were it not for the sudden noise outside the locked door. They both stilled, eyes locked unto each other, a mix of slight panic and semi humor. The footsteps outside became louder and they both held their breaths; fortunately whoever it was walked right past and continued on.

"_I almost wish someone stumbled in on us,_" Andy lamented with a slight laugh.

Sharon rolled her eyes, "_You are impossible_"

They grinned, waited for a long moment before they unlocked the door and exited. They sneaked back to the elevators, walking close shoulder to shoulder, fingers coincidently touching now and then. He pushed the button for the garage watching Sharon smiling to herself out of the corner of his eye.

"_We should go out, you know, do dinner and stuff,_" Andy ventured as they waited, fidgeting as he tried to keep a little distance between them and not kiss her again.

"_Stuff?_" her voice had turned sultry and he was swept back to another decade, lying in bed with her and watching baseball. The same tone, same vibration to the words, as they had made love. Sometimes in seemed all of that – all of their good times – had happened in another life, another reality.

"_We should do it properly this time_."

"_We should,_" she agreed, and he felt happy beyond words. Felt excitement and content blossoming within him, almost on the brink of giddiness. It felt surreal.

The elevator dinged and opened. He guided her in, his hand on the small of her back. He needed to touch some part of her, to anchor himself to her and keep her near.

The door closed, and they immediately moved even closer, eyes locking unto each other and mouths turning upwards in ridiculous wide smiles. This was absurd – immensely, Andy thought with a certain amount of delight.

"_I want you to take me out,_" Sharon declared, lips looking deliciously kissable as they worked around the words.

It was senseless not to kiss those lips though, Andy surmised, and answered her as he leaned forward and sealed his lips to hers again. Incomprehensible not to run his fingers along her jaw and end up at the back of her nape, nestled in her hair. And without question pointless not to bring his hips into contact with her, pressing them against the wall and closer together.

She made sense in his life – everything else was meaningless. The thirteen years without her had been without purpose, without substance. She was like just like his addiction to alcohol in some ways; he craved her but he had gone without her as well and managed to live. But he only really existed when she was in his life.

"_I love you,_" he mumbled into another kiss and in another lifetime he would have been afraid of how she would react, would she flee? Would she ignore it? But in this moment of time, nothing mattered and nothing had a consequence; so the words slipped from his lips effortlessly, genuine and sweet. She whimpered and kissed him harder.

**-o-**

Hehe; I feel almost giddy writing this. =)


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**-o-**

Maybe fate had intervened, kept them apart until the right moment and they fit together again. Maybe circumstances were entirely coincidental and they had might as well never have talked again.

"_Captain Raydor, it's Lieutenant Flynn_"

Her voice calmed him down, and despite his pain and blood loss, he felt at home the moment she said a hesitant _yeah_ in his ear.

She would make everything alright. And if he died from blood loss it would be with her sweet voice in his ears, the image of her clear in his mind even as he felt dizziness settle in.

"_Yeah, this is your lucky day_" he managed to croak out and could almost imagine her panic but her voice was calm and it calmed him.

She was the calm in the center of a storm; a solid thing to hang unto. The reason he felt adrift when she wasn't in his life. The reason his being was light when she was near.

Everything would be alright.

Andy had never been happier.

**-o-**

Finito… =)

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback.

I might write a sequel - hehe, already started a bit of it. But we'll see. =)

/Iso


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